It’s a sunny day and the air is so light and refreshing. I can feel it through the slightly rolled down windows as we cruise down the road headed for home. I’m enjoying the drive because the road is deserted, quiet, and none of my passengers are demanding anything from me. They are all occupied.  Benny, sitting in the front passenger seat, is typing away on the laptop. He says he is creating a new call book for “Amy’s Daily Guidelines”. I’m thankful Benny is doing this for me but I’m reserving judgment on that for a while. I may be completely done with call books in my life because they can be too regimented. My life is so much in flux now that I live with Parkinson’s. Lonely Louise, Grieving Gertrude and Indecisive Izzy are in a private, quiet huddle just behind my seat. I can hear them talking about searching for a new dog. I really don’t know how to even start thinking about a new dog, so I’ll just leave it to them. Doubtful Dennis, Worrisome Wanda and Sad Sammy are busy playing the license plate game. Dennis is amazed that he saw a plate from Mexico and Sammy is so happy to have found a special 1976 Bi-Centennial plate from Massachusetts. Apathetic Annie seems to be lost in contemplation as she looks out the window next to her in the back seat. I’m Too Tired Tucker is passed-out, sleeping in Annie’s lap. In the rear view mirror I look at Annie’s face and notice a change. Her skin looks softer and has a rosie tone. Her expression is no longer harsh. Hmmm, I wonder… I’ll have to decipher this change when we get home. 

After about an hour, we pull into town and continue down the main road through the center of town. Louise and Gertrude get so excited because they see a lot of dogs walking with their people on the sidewalks. They start naming the breeds they see and like the best. Izzy likes all of them, naturally! The license plate game winds up and Sammy is the winner. Annie turns her attention back into the car and she nudges Tucker to wake up. We are a few blocks from home. I start to feel anxious again. I turn to Benny and ask him to take charge. “Benny, I really need your help. You know me, you think like me and I trust you. I can’t handle any responsibility for this troupe right now. Could you wrangle them please? I thought I got answers and felt better after seeing Daisy again in the cave, but that overwhelmed feeling is coming up again.” Benny answers with confidence, “You got it!” 

We pulled into the driveway. Benny barks with authority, “Everybody, out of the car and into the house. Settle down in the living room and have some ‘quiet time’. PLEASE, do not bug Amy. She’s going to rest in her room.”  Benny, turns to me and softly says, “Now go lay down. Have a good rest and clear your mind.”  I quietly replied, “Thank you, Benny. You’re a Mensch!”

I lay down in the silence of my bedroom and try to quiet my mind. I find myself staring up at the ceiling and inescapably thinking about Daisy’s death again. I look to the right, on the floor, at the dog bed and blanket still in place, where Daisy had her fatal seizure. I tell myself, “No, I’m not going to go there!” But I do. I roll onto my back to look at the ceiling again and start crying. I feel a couple of tears roll down the side of my cheek and into my ear. I take a deep breath, curl up into a fetal position, pull up the covers over my head, and fall asleep, escaping grief for at least an hour.